Hello all! So… I asked to get to 10 reviews and I got to…21! I could hardly believe it! That's 17 reviews! I'm amazed! So a special thanks to all of my lovely reviewers! Rosie-Kinz, Willow101, Katie, 372259, Audrey, Cassie, Laurafxox, PinkAzn, Anon, Justme, Spoiledrotten94, saiyanprincess711, Aimee, hplover1616, HGaddict, Cereline, CorinaL27 and ! Thank you sooo much once again! I hope to continue to hear from each and every one of you plus more!
Note: Someone is confused about the way that the story is set up, so in case anyone else is confused I'm going to answer the question here. The way that the story is set up is the 'present' is happening tat the beginning of the story and the ending with the subtitle/setting is what happened before/during the Games. So I'm kinda telling two stories here, the 'past' and the 'present.' Does that make sense? If anyone is confused or has any other questions just leave them in a review or feel free to message me! I try answer all of my messages and get back everyone!
My Favorite Pet 3: Let the Games Begins
The room that I had set up for him is waiting when we walk through the door. He looks around warily before he sets down the possessions that I went and got for him personally. Even his parents don't know that he is actually alive. I feel a little bad about this, but then again I don't think I would want to go back to them anyway. Immediately this calls up images of a stern looking blond woman, beautiful but cold, and a ferocious looking man, large and muscular with a predatory look in his eyes, standing in the doorway of a luxurious apartment. When I greeted them they seemed more embarrassed and disappointed than mournful that their son was dead. Apparently, their eldest was the victor a couple of years back and instead of feeling any actual parental love for their younger son they are embarrassed that he 'failed.'
I still recall the words that his mother murmured as she handed me the packed bag of his belongs.
"Here take them…. I don't want to be reminded of what a failure that my son was…"
The entire ordeal made me sick to my stomach. So now as I watch him inspect his new room I'm curious to see what he thinks.
"Do you like it?" I inquire.
He just shrugs nonchalantly, "I guess... I've never really cared what my room looks like though… Will I be able to train?"
"For what?"
"The-" he stops midsentence clearly unsure of how to finish it. All at once a lost and almost faraway look appears in his eyes.
"…I don't know…" he murmurs as he looks out the window his bag dropping to the floor and his bandaged arming coming to hang restlessly down by his sides.
Vaguely I wonder what it's like to have your purpose in life taken from you. To experience the pain of understanding that you've failed at your life's goal and you will never be offered that chance again.
On second thought… perhaps I do know what that feels like… I thought that I would never be offered another chance at love, because who would actually love me?
The spoiled grandchild of the President…
The spoiled and shallow granddaughter of the Dictator of the world as we know it…
I shake my head to pull myself from my thoughts and look up to find Cato still lost in his own thoughts as he stares out the window; the playful and cocky spark that they had just a few weeks ago died in the arena. It would appear that I've adopted a shell… On second thought… a crab probably would have been more entertaining right about now.
And you eat those...
"Well," I say to break the silence in the room, plus I can't say that I enjoy being ignored, especially by my new man candy.
He whips his head around and looks surprised to see me, as if he forgot that I was even there.
"I'll let you get settled in, I'm right across the hall if you need anything call me or an avox, but don't leave the room.
"Why not?"
"Because silly… you're dead…" I laugh as I exit the room leaving a stunned Cato behind me.
When I enter my room I'm surprised to see Finnick lounging on my couch.
"What are you doing here? I thought you left on the train this morning?"
"I decided to wait another day."
"You're curious about what I intend to do with him aren't you?"
"Do you blame me?"
"Yes," I murmur with a wicked smile as I walk past him to lounge on my settee.
"Rosie…"
"A war is coming Finnick, I'm not stupid I can hear the whisperings and I feel the unease. What do you think is going to happen to me when Grandfather dies? Do you think they will just let me go with a slap on the wrist? 'Oh don't try to take your grandfather's place…' Ha! I'll be the first one they come after. I'm his successor remember? Who else are these bumbling buffoons going to turn to?"
Finnick frowns "You're right… you will be who they go after next. You'll be a martyr for the cause…"
"I don't want to be anyone's martyr…"
"Would you fight the capitol then?"
"I'm not fighting anyone Finnick…" I mutter in exasperation.
"Then what is your boy toy for?"
"Protection… of course…" I mutter with a smug smile.
Training
I watch out the window as Cato flings the dummy aside like it's nothing, but only after slicing it up so nice that he could put a sushi chef out of business.
"What do you think of the tributes?" questions Seneca.
I shrug, "What does it matter? They will all be dead soon anyway… well except for that one…"
"You truly do hate the Games don't you?"
"What's to love? A bunch of desperate kids running about trying to kill one another, it's gruesome and barbaric. Why should I condone the very murder of those who are innocent and do not deserve it?"
"You shouldn't be talking like that, what if-"
"What if the president finds out?" I question as I take my eyes from Cato for the first and turn to look Crane in the eye, a wicked smile on my face.
"Do you honestly think that anything could ever happen to me? I'm his princess…his angel… and anything else is just hear say… So… I would remember that in the future if I were you… Grandfather doesn't like when things don't go his way or… when I'm unhappy…"
I flash him a smile and turn and leave him standing there with his mouth hanging open like a fish, speechless.
My hardened gaze softens as I glance out of the one way glass window and down onto the tributes. I can't help when my gaze wanders to a particular boy and lingers there longer than wise. It's one thing to play the crowd and be attracted a poor district boy, it's another thing to actually mean it, because meaning it is dangerous…
Alright… I'm feeling daring tonight so how about setting a goal of 40? It's Friday the 13th so I'm feelin lucky! REVIEW!